


Daedric Princes are Mean

by 2LIM3RZ



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Edgy, Out Of Character bois probably, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2LIM3RZ/pseuds/2LIM3RZ
Summary: Pijas is an Argonian who's lived a rough life. He also can't remember much at all. All he knows is that he wants to get rid of some Daedric artifacts that are tied to him.Turns out that the Keeper of Knowledge is not so nice about his answer.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Daedric Princes are Mean

**Author's Note:**

> Is this edgy? Yes. Are the characters out of character? Except for Pijas, also yes I think.  
> Anyways: Herma Mora is an asshole and I want to make angsty edge and also write how much I hate Molag Bal ~~but I love Hircine, Pi boi don't but.. c'mon.. I love deer man~~

Staring down at the pedestal that held the ominous book, the Argonian’s chest was heaving. He stumbled back, his back sliding against the wall. It was freezing cold in the room, even with the torch that provided light and meager warmth. He wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. He was.. He was…  
 _Pijas. Pijas.. Pijas something. He liked Black Briar mead and used to like Skooma._  
Pijas’s blue eyes went to the bottle of skooma he had. It was.. admittedly boring looking thing.  
Maybe “used to” was an understatement. He was trying to get off it.. Even if that trying translated to “just couldn’t use it because he apparently had to run around all of Tamriel just to save the damn world from a damn dragon”

Pah. Some Dragonborn he was. He was just some mindless husk with muscles. He was _hired muscle_ after all. Not for the gold, though he did get plenty, but for that Skooma. That was until damn dragons invaded, until he just so happened to be near when one attacked and by the Gods he was not going to be killed by some overgrown lizard-bat.

Sighing, he looked at the ring on his finger. Find the Great Beast, a white stag, he said. It’d be simple he probably said. Pijas was never good at hunting. He never hunted since he was a mere _child_.   
At least, he thought he did, he couldn’t remember much, maybe getting hit in the head with a warhammer a couple times did that. Turning around, he shuffled in his pack and took out a book. Specifically a book about Daedra. 

Shivering, he glanced at the mace that was looped on his belt. He couldn’t take off the ring and he couldn’t get rid of that damn mace. He didn’t know how to do _anything_.  
But someone did. As much as he definitely hated anything divine, and he was sure none of them liked him.. He was certainly surer than sure that after he beat that annoying man screaming about Talos that he was on that guy’s list to pulverise the second he got an inch close to the god.

Flipping through the book, he paused on a dog-eared page. He stared at the page.  
 _Hermaeus Mora._ The Daedra’s name taunted him. The Daedric Prince of _knowledge_.  
Since clearly the other Daedric Princes, especially damned Molag Bal, would be the least likely to help him, he figured his best bet was this thing. He surely didn’t have any idea how to find any other ones, especially Hircine, but Hermaeus Mora?  
He was right on his doorstep.

The only thing blocking him was.. What’s his name.. Miraak. Shuddering, Pijas’s eyes went to the black book, as if the.. Whatever he was would step out at any moment. Encased in the shining magics of whatever Shout he had used to summon the orange and blue features. Though.. If he could get his pleading words, his promises to Hermaeus Mora before that masked bastard could end him, the Daedric Prince could stop him.

Standing up, Pijas took a trembling step closer to the black book. He shuddered at the feelings it gave him. Before he was sucked into whatever plane of Oblivion that was, he only glimpsed a few words from the book. Words that made his mind confused.. or that could be his lack of education, he never nailed reading properly, always forced to read out loud.  
Grasping the book’s cover tightly with his claws, he eyed his dark green scales. He stood there, still as a statue, hardly breathing as he trembled.

He could do it. He could do it! Closing his eyes tightly, Pijas yanked open the book.   
That feeling, wretched. Horrible, he suddenly wasn’t in the silence of the ruined temple, but instead in a different place entirely. Books surrounded him. He looked at the sky, it was a wretched green… yellow?   
He wheezed as he looked around and-

“The Dragonborn returns again..” a sort of slurred voice spoke. Tensing, Pijas tore the Mace of Molag Bal from his side, holding it with wide eyes ready to-  
There was no one. He was.. alone he supposed. None of those creepy tentacle things were there. Miraak and that deformed looking dragon, for it didn’t look like any other he had seen, were there.  
Then he noticed the black void of tentacles and a single bulbous eye staring at him, with a startled shout, he stumbled back.

He didn’t even allow the Daedric Prince to continue speaking, not allowing any more words to.. Pijas suppose appear from nowhere as he fell to his knees, holding his hands up to the Prince.  
“H-Hermaeus Mora, please- sir- lord- I-I.. I beg of you, I-” his voice wavered and stammered harshly “I beg for.. for knowledge-” the eye narrowed, only a fraction, the movement so minute that Pijas hardly caught it.  
“I am the prince of knowledge, Dragonborn.” the Argonian hated how slow it spoke.

“I know!” he snapped before giving a panicked look to the eye and bobbing his head, following with a more hushed, beaten voice “I know… I..” he hung his head. His hand dropped the mace and they curled into fists on his lap.  
“I want.. I want to worship you- I’ll become your servant, your champion, anything just to rid myself of these.. These cursed items.” he wanted to look to the eye but his body dreaded it too much. Dreading to see what emotion he’d see on that all-seeing eye. Dreading to see if those tentacled monsters or if Miraak was creeping upon him.

“I.. couldn’t find Hircine when Sinding gave me this ring.. I didn’t want to have this mace..” he closed his eyes tightly and forced himself to look up, He defeated dragons afterall.   
“I just want to be free again..I don’t want to be forced to become a werewolf, I don’t want to be forced to murder an innocent-” he stopped himself as his voice wavered again, bordering on a sob.

“Silence.” that one word spoken by the being stopped Pijas’s rambling. His wide eyes turned up to Hermaeus Mora.  
“I will grant the knowledge that you seek, Dragonborn.” a grin split his face, he felt he could just grab one of those slimy looking tentacles and kiss it.  
 _”The knowledge you seek is your death.”_ it just as quickly broke away with those words.

Death. He had to die to get rid of these wretched items? He had to meet his doom just to get away from his woes? His chest heaved as he looked down. His body was shaking. He felt frigid as though he stood in Windhelm’s icy waters despite the fact it was warm.  
 _Death_. Something he long avoided, on accident or not, was the only solution? The only solution from the Daedric Prince of _knowledge_?

Rebellion rose in his chest, with trembling legs, Pijas’s face turned to a snarl with tear filled eyes as he stood.  
“You can’t be serious!” his voice rose from desperate, trembling, and respectful to bitter and angry. His voice rising to a shrill shriek.  
“That’s impossible! Y-You know everything! You know how I can get rid of this!” he took a step closer to the now damningly impassive eye holding void. Closer and closer he dared. Closer and closer, his hand tightening around the mace. He was angry, beyond angry. He had fought tooth and nail just to be told to kill himself by some ugly mass of-

With a shriek he found his arms bound by his sides. His chest found it hard to expand and breathe as he swore he heard a crack within him. Looking down, the deep green-black of a massive tentacle was around his body. He looked up to the eye.  
“I do. And I have told you what you were looking for Pijas.” the Argonian shuddered at the mention of his name. He couldn’t look away from the eye as much as he wanted to. As much as he begged himself to.

“Then.. Then do it!” he wailed. The tentacle gripping him tightened slightly and he wheezed.  
“No.” Hermaeus Mora let go, Pijas’s legs gave out beneath him as he laid on the ground, shaking and staring ahead.  
“You choose your own fate.”  
Daedric Princes were all just mean big bastards, huh? was Pijas’s only thought as he stood begrudgingly, eyes narrowed angrily. His face a bitter scowl.

Choose your own fate he said. Oh he’d choose it all right. Holding up the mace with an angry scowl, he screamed as he threw it at the large mocking eye.  
It disappeared, landing on the ground with a metallic clang at the foot of Miraak.  
Pijas’s arms hung limply at his sides as he stared at the mask.  
Wasn’t _that_ just wonderful?


End file.
